The sun disappeared back
behind the clouds to wrap Imladris in a dull gray chill that matched Legolas's
ruined mood all too well. Yes, Elrond would allow him to go to Dul Goldur,
but the Elf-lord had made it unbearably clear that Legolas would go only because
Elrond allowed it.

Feeling anger and panic
boil within him, Legolas reflected, [For all of his kindnesses, I should have
known that I've only exchanged one prison for another. Can he not understand
that I *must* go to Dul Goldur, else another will be sent in my stead to die?
I thought him as concerned with Mirkwood as he is with Imladris. Instead I
discover that, like my father, Lord Elrond's greatest interest is in controlling
where I go and why. Very well,] he concluded, feeling morose, [I should have
expected it. Rule me as you will.]

Legolas followed two paces
behind Elrond with his head still held high, but with an emotional distance
between them that he'd not felt since the early hours of their growing friendship.
The older Elf's mood had also clearly shifted, and Legolas knew better than
to attempt any continuation of their most recent discussion; from all appearances,
Elrond would probably exhibit little patience with his intended bondmate's
mood.

Unlatching the gate leading
to the field just outside the new stable, Elrond strode through without bothering
to look behind. He had no doubt that Legolas would latch the gate. [However
much he may resent my involvement in his life,] Elrond reflected, [he will
not risk harm to the horses.]

They were in time to see
Glorfindel swing back the stable door.

"Lord Elrond, Lasgalen!"
He hailed them with as much enthusiasm as ever, which made Legolas instantly
wary. "It's good to see you, you're just in time."

"In time for what?" Elrond
all but growled. "I am here to see Assassin."

"You may want to stand
aside." Coming up to stand beside Elrond and Legolas, Glorfindel laughed at
the four grooms only just emerging from the stable aisle and into the weak
winter light. Assassin danced between them, anchored by two Elves on each
side who held lead shanks and shrank as far away from the stallion as was
Elvenly possibly.

"But their safety depends
upon one another," Legolas observed, flanking Glorfindel, "because if either
one lets go--"

"Death or dismemberment
awaits," Glorfindel said cheerily.

"The horse is not dangerous,
and the two of you are vastly overrating the danger of the situation," Elrond
asserted.

"Of course we are." Glorfindel
winked at Legolas.

Ears back and shaking
his head, Assassin cut shapes, danced and blew. Bouncing out of the stable,
he leaned and strained a shank, sidled one way and then the other to make
both elves skitter along beside him. He paused long enough to indulge in a
bit of rearing and head shaking, yanking his escorts about only to suddenly
subside to their efforts to stop his forward motion and snorted loudly.

"There, you see? It's
all show," protested Elrond, standing with hands on hips. "He's having fun
terrorizing them while they lead him out. He's just been confined for too
long."

"Oh, yes. Gentle as a
kitten is that one," Glorfindel agreed.

Elrond whistled softly
and Assassin's head shot up. Ears pricked forward, he stared at his master
and settled instantly. Pacing docilely forward to close the distance between
them, the horse shoved his muzzle into the hand Elrond offered, which left
the elves leading him standing foolishly to either side and holding the slack
leads in white-knuckled hands. Elrodn stroked the long neck, and Legolas thought
that he caught a glance of relief shared between the nearest elves, but couldn't
be certain.

"Glorfindel, we need to
assess my stallion's well-being. We'll begin with his breathing: is all of
his snorting merely for fun, or is he still subject to respiratory obstructions?"
Turning to Legolas, Elrond continued, "I want you to place your hands just
so--" he demonstrated, miming cupping his hands over the stallion's nostrils
while standing before Assassin, but not actually touching the horse's face,
"while Glorfindel and I listen to his lungs."

[You want me to stand
here and hold my hands over this stallion's nostrils so that he can't breathe
which is guaranteed to annoy him horribly,] Legolas thought. [Leave me in
line for death, why don't you?]

The four elven grooms
took the opportunity to drop their shanks and back away slowly when Legolas
moved to stand directly in front of the stallion to do as Elrond had requested.

Taking up their positions
at Assassin's flanks, Elrond and Glorfindel laid their arms over the stallion's
back and leaned down to listen at his chest wall. Giving an inward sigh, Legolas
placed his hands as Elrond had dictated he should. [There's really other way
to find out, but I'd rather be a listening elf than one irritating this beast.]

Assassin eyed him with
open suspicion but stood quietly enough as Legolas covered his nose. [No doubt
because your lord and master is standing right there.] Seconds later, Assassin
shook his head as he discovered he couldn't breathe. Legolas didn't let go.

"If you and I do this
right," he murmured, "we'll only have to do it once."

He held on as long as
he dared, letting go only when the stallion's gaze hardened and he threw his
head upward violently, easily getting his nostrils out of range over Legolas's
head. Startled, the stallion took a deep breath and then another.

Closing his eyes, Elrond
listened to his horse's lungs and eventually straightened. Doing the same
on the stallion's other side, Glorfindel observed, "I can't hear any crackling,
wheezing or gurgling. Can you?"

"There's still a bit of
crackling over here," said Elrond. "Not much, but some."

"I didn't hear any. Best
we do that again."

The two elf-lords looked
up to where Legolas and Assassin were glaring at each other.

"Would you please cover
his nose again?"

Legolas looked from Elrond's
hard gaze to the stallion's blazing glare and decided that the horse was the
better to disobey at this point. Cupping his long fingers, Legolas moved them
toward the horse's muzzle, only to have the head meet him halfway with teeth
bared. Only a quick step backward prevented those teeth from finding their
target. As it was, the sharp click left no doubt as to the sincerity of Assasssin's
effort.

"Legolas, if you're through
playing with him, we're waiting," Elrond prompted.

Sighing, the younger elf
startled the stallion by grabbing a lead shank. Pulling it taut, Legolas stood
on it. Momentarily perplexed, the stallion allowed the elf the moment of opportunity
he needed to clamp his hands over the delicate nostrils once more. Assassint
seemed to swell in anger before whipping his head sideways and sending the
rope whistling out from under Legolas's boot. Rearing, the stallion struck
at the elf, who leaped backward out of reach of those flashing hooves.

"That wasn't exactly satisfactory,
but I still maintain I heard no crackles," Glorfindel stated firmly to Elrond,
who didn't seem to have noticed the opening attack. "I think Assassin's doing
quite well, all things considered."

"I think I heard something
still, but if I did it is small. Let's see how he handles stressing his breathing.
It's obvious he's feeling well enough to tolerate some exercise." Taking off
the halter, Elrond threw it and the cumbersome lead shanks aside. "Lasgalen,
get up and take him around, won't you?"

Assassin was still staring
at Legolas, with a look filled with smoldering fury over the rude handling
he'd just endured. 'Stay off,' said the animosity in that gaze.

"You've already ridden
him once, and I'm asking him to carry you again."

"My Lord Elrond--"

"Get up there!" Elrond
growled, fingers closing in irritation on a handful of mane and glowering
at Legolas every bit as strongly as was Assassin himself. Glorfindel watched
the exchange in gleeful silence from across the horse's back, as did the grooms
hovering nearby.

"Yes, my lord," Legolas
said obediently, obviously not meaning it.

"Sullen rider, sullen
horse," Glorfindel observed quietly.

"Hush," admonished Elrond.

"Sullen horse owner, too,"
Glorfindel managed to get in the dig as Legolas came up beside him. The older
Elf-lord made way with a slight bow.

Assassin had his own opinions
of the situation. Left with an empty field and no one standing in his way
any longer - not to mention an unwelcome stranger clearly preparing to mount
- the stallion walked out. Once clear of the startled grop of elves who had
leaned and poked and grabbed his nose, Assassin moved into an easy trot.

"Catch him."

"He's your horse, you
catch him," Glorfindel counter-ordered

Growling softly in exasperation,
Elrond whistled again. With head high and tail streaming out behind him, Assassin
trotted a wide circle around the small group before turning and walking s-l-o-w-l-y,
majestically in to stand quietly at his owner's shoulder.

[He has as much arrogance
as the Elrond himself,] Legolas observed, keeping his expression carefully
schooled to impassivity.

The grooms, Legolas noted,
had retrieved the discarded tack and retreated safely to the far side of the
fence beside the stable. 'Lasgalen is a good volunteer,' Legolas could see
them thinking. 'Eat him. Better him than one of us.' Whether the stallion
or Elrond himself would be the first to take out a chunk of this volunteered
rider was subject to debate.

It also appeared that
their raised voices were drawing a new audience as additional grooms and other
servants wandered up to the paddock to find out what was going on. The impertinent
scout from Mirkwood was arguing with Lord Elrond who wasn't sounding like
a complacent ruler. Legolas could see the arched eyebrows, shocked looks,
and wagging tongues from where he stood beside Assassin. Elves loved gossip,
but this wasn't gossip; this was here and now and being played out before
them, much to their great delight.

"We have a defiant elf?"

"Not only that, we have
a defiant elf who has been ordered to ride Elrond's fearsome foundation sire."

"Ooooh, the show will
be good, care to place a bet on the outcome?"

"I think the term 'riding'
is highly optimistic. Wonder how long he'll last before he meets the grass?"

Heads were coning together,
wagers were being placed, and Legolas was well aware of it all. Turning away
from the gleeful audience behind him, he squared his shoulders and faced his
foes.

"As you wish, Lord Elrond."

Legolas vaulted easily
onto the stallion, only to see Assassin's ears go back and his neck arch.
The back muscles beneath the elf tightened while Assassin's hind feet advanced
two steps under his body.

[He's balancing to rear,]
Legolas knew. Weaving both hands into the mane, he tried to sit up straight
and looked down at Elrond, who still stood at the stallion's head.

"What do you want us to
do?"

He got The Look for that,
the one that said, 'You know damned well what I want you to do.' When the
Elf-lord spoke, his low voice held a distinct warning for all its seeming
patience.

"Track left and circle
around us, please. I require two circles at a trot, two at a canter. I wish
you to then change directions and do it again. Then return immediately to
me."

Nodding, Legolas walked
the stallion out in a generous circle around Elrond and Glorfindel. Glancing
over, he dind't bother to mask his sullenness. [Assassin isn't and Elrond
isn't, so why should I?] "Is this what you want, Lord Elrond?" he said cordially.
"Is the diameter correct?"

He was rewarded with an
imperious nod from Elrond and an outright grin from Glorfindel. Elrond waved
his hand. "Send him on."

Legolas's first request
to move into a trot got pinned ears and much tail swishing, but not much else.

[I'm losing patience with
this myself,] the elf thought, well aware of the many eyes on him now. Daring
to try a small, growly go-on, Legolas nudged gently with his knees and braced
for the worst.

Assassin startled him
by actually picking up to a trot in a long, lofty stride while maintaining
the circle around Glorfindel and his master. Pleased despite his precarious
situation, Legolas startled the horse into a canter, so that Assassin glided
out in a long, flowing thing of grace before he could actually think about
it.

Legolas swore softly to
himself to realize that he'd entirely forgotten the Lord of Imladris. Feeling
somewhat sheepish to have become lost in a world of his own with the horse,
Legolas guided Assassin directly across the circle to take them directly past
Elrond and Glorfindel. Tracking closer, Assassin deliberately tried to shoulder
Glorfindel on the way by. The elf from Gondolin leaped backward.

"Amin hiraetha," Legolas
called an apology over his shoulder, "but what can I do?"

Glorfindel laughed and
called back. "N'deta no'ta, don't worry about it. I saw you coming."

A snort from Legolas.
A snort from the stallion who tried to lengthen his stride. Building up beneath
Legolas, he began moving faster and faster. The elf decided to let him.

"I said two circles only,"
Elrond called after they'd completed five.

Gritting his teeth, Legolas
stiffened his back, dropped back his weight, and closed his legs. Assassin
ignored him. Legolas asked again. And again. Rather than slow his gait, the
stallion's strides grew longer and faster with each moment to move from the
quiet canter requested into a tail-flagging gallop in spite of all his rider
could do to dissuade him. Legolas could almost feel the horse laughing at
him.

[Fine.] He directed Assassin
toward the nearest fence, with the intent to have him obey the barrier if
he wouldn't obey his rider.

Careful not to lean forward
lest the horse stop abruptly and launch Legolas over his head, the elf whispered
into the alert ears, "Elrond is waiting."

Reaching the fence, Assassin
rolled smoothly back over his hocks. Switching directions in less than a heartbeat,
he trotted serenely back to Elrond. It was then that Legolas noticed the blowing.
The coughing began next -- a deep, rattling thing with the stallion dropping
his head to his knees with each one.

Glancing at Elrond as
they passed close by once more, Legolas asked, "Should we stop now?"

"Yes, I believe so."

Legolas halted the horse
mere feet from Elrond, who patted his horse on the neck.

"I told you he'd be no
trouble!" Elrond snapped before joining Glorfindel once more in listening
to the horse's lungs.

Listening was an easier
proposition this time, as much of Assassin's fight seemed to have been burned
away by his short tear-away across the field. Pointed ears pressed against
his ribs, and the two elven lords listened as the air whistled in and out
of his lungs. A more sober look was exchanged between Glorfindel and Elrond
as they stepped back to watch Assassin for a moment as he coughed and snorted.

The coughing fit finally
eased, with Glorfindel circling Assassin to stand with Elrond.

"He still has enough wind
to be comfortable," Glorfindel ventured, "but there's also enough damage that
he cannot be used on any sort of a journey."

"I agree." Elrond's eyes
filled with sadness at the damage his foundation sire would likely carry for
the rest of his days.

The horse, however, was
still filled with pride and temper and dislike at being poked and prodded
in such a rude and familiar manner. Stomping, Assassin turned his head to
snap at Legolas's foot, which the elf jerked away just as Elrond looked back.

"Return him to his stall,
please." Turning away once again to wander a few paces with Glorfindel, Elrond
said, "Assassin can be bred but little else, I think. The season is coming,
what do you think of simply turning him out with the mares?"

Legolas obediently turned
the horse toward the stable and nudged him into motion as the stallion no
longer seemed so inclined to move out. Assassin walked sullenly, reluctantly,
with ears pinned and gave one swift snap at his rider's foot once more. He
was cooperative, but only marginally so, and he was letting Legolas know all
about his current resentments.

The minute his master's
back was turned, however, resentment turned into action as Assassin braced
his hind feet, stiffened his back, and gave one almost stationery buck. Legolas,
who had relaxed and was eavesdropping on the two elves' conversation, found
that still having his hands buried in the horse's mane did little to save
him when he wasn't anticipating the move.

The elf was tossed forward
without warning to sail over the horse's shoulder. Only his hands in the mane
changed the direction of Legolas's flight and allowed him to land squarely
on his feet, startled to find himself eye to eye with the irritable beast.

The stallion glared at
Legolas, who glared right back.

"Fine, my lord stallion,"
Legolas hissed softly to the horse. "Do as you will. It was never my wish
to ride you, so I'll leave you to your mares and to your master. Our master."

Elrond spun around to
see Legolas head off across the field while Assassin took two hesitant, almost
bewildered steps to follow him. The horse stopped almost immediately, head
held high while he regarded the retreating elf. Snorting loudly, Assassin
whirled and trotted off to flirt at the fence with a group of mares come to
watch his magnificence.

[It's too early, big one,]
they seemed to say, milling around and wandering off as they lost interest.
[We still have babies, you must talk to us after they're born. Yes, we know
who you are and you're a fine stallion, but it's far too early...]

"I thought I told Lasgalen
to take my horse into the stable," Elrond commented irritably and staring
after Legolas much as had Assassin. "Where is he off to, and why has he just
left Assassin that way?"

"Your stallkon had other
ideas, Elrond."

Elrond shook his head.
"Assassin is weary and needs to go inside. I thought Lasgalen to be more reliable
with horses than that."

A gesture from the Lord
of Imladris, and two of the grooms stepped forward with evident reluctance,
though whether to face the ill-tempered horse or his equally ill-tempered
master was not clear.

"My lord?" one elf questioned
respectfully.

"Catch Assassin, take
him back," he ordered, flicking one hand toward the strutting stallion. Fully
expecting the order to be obeyed, Elrond turned to follow Legolas.

Glorfindel stopped him
with a hand on his arm. "You are feeling cruel today, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just told those grooms
to go and catch your stallion."

"Yes. I did. What of it?
It's their job."

"These poor, inferior
beings are to drag the Magnificent One away from his mares and not kill themselves
in the process?"

Elrond looked back to
see that not one groom had moved away from the fence. "My horse is not dangerous!"

"Go catch your own horse,
Elrond," Glorfindel admonished. "You know where your other young stallion
will be, so you can catch him later. Unlike Assassin, Lasgalen isn't likely
to kill anyone other than yourself who lays hands on him."

Drawing himself up to
his full height, Elrond rocked back and stared down his nose at his friend
and most trusted advisor. Whistling softly, Elrond was still staring at Glorfindel
when Assassin trotted willingly away from the fence and over to him.

"I don't see any problem,"
Elrond murmured, retrieving the halter and a single lead shank from the groom
who dared to answer the elf-lord's unspoken order when Elrond held out his
hand.

"That is too disgusting,"
said Glorfindel.

Slipping on the halter,
Elrond handed the shank to Glorfindel. "There you are. If you are so worried
as to the welfare of our grooms, you can take Assassin in yourself."

Glorfindel gingerly took
the shank in time for Assassin to wipe horse-snot up his arm. Sighing, he
said, "You really should have named this one Balrog. Come on, evil one. There's
feed and hay waiting in your stall."

One of the grooms appeared
in the doorway to the stable, shaking a bucket that was sure to contain grain.
Predictably, Assassin's ears flicked forward and his stride lengthened as
he headed toward the unexpected meal being so generously offered inside.

[That groom must like
Glorfindel,] Elrond noted.

Elrond watched as his
friend led the horse off and smiled to see that the lead shank was always
slack.

"You know," said Glorfindel,
daring to throw a companionable arm across the horse's withers, "It's not
often anyone is always one step ahead of me. Still, you seem to manage it."

Elrond had the wisdom
to wait until horse and elf-lord had disappeared inside the barn before heading
with all haste after Legolas who had already disappeared from the field for
parts unknown.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

The last candle in the
library of Imladris sputtered out behind the Elf-lord, wrapping him darkness,
but Elrond paid it no heed. He'd spent half of the day searching for the elf
he wished to see, yet Legolas was far out of reach this night. Scowling into
the shadows, Elrond had the unpleasant realization that his Prince of Mirkwood
could well have been watching and laughing silently over Elrond's failure
to locate him.

Abandoning the search
in the early evening, Elrond had waited for Legolas to appear at evening meal,
but the elf apparently had other plans. [He'd rather starve than encounter
me, obviously.] Long fingers dug into the wooden arms of his chair, and Elrond
slouched even lower. [Why does this not surprise me?]

Elrond could have ordered
his guard to search for the elf in question. He could have ordered, 'Find
Lasgalen but do not disturb him. Bring word to me of where he is.' Eventually
Legolas would have been found, but Elrond's pride would not allow such a thing.
More than that, the searchers could not have passed unnoticed by so skilled
a warrior, no matter how hard they might try. Hard on the heels of that realization
came the knowledge that to set his guards on Legolas would have been to damage
the friendship that had begun between them.

[My prince wishes to be
alone, so alone he shall be until he deems otherwise,] Elrond reflected, rubbing
the bridge of his nose. [He has had enough of jailers, and I refuse to be
considered yet another.]

Stiff muscles protested
as he rose from the chair. Pacing to a small table, he poured a goblet of
wine and moved to the balcony, but the wine remaining untasted and all but
forgotten in his hand while his gaze searched the darkness once more. The
night air was still and snow was once again falling in huge flakes over Imladris.
Beautiful, or it would have been had Elrond's elf not preferred to linger
somewhere in that cold.

Hearing soft footfalls
on the hardwood floor of the library behind him, Elrond didn't bother to turn,
for it was Glorfindel come to join him rather than the Mirkwood elf he would
have welcomed.

"Another storm is upon
us," the legendary warrior of Gondolin began, helping himself to some wine.
"I believe I've seen more snow and ice upon our fair fields since Legolas
came than I have in all the years since I returned to Middle-earth."

Coming to join Elrond
at the railing, Glorfindel eyed the first finger of the Elf-lord's right hand:
regardless no ring of power was visible, the older elf knew it was there.
"In the past you delighted in using Vilya's power to make mild Imladris's
weather," he murmured, "an effort those of cold toes applauded, I might add.
Have you forgotten how to do that?"

Elrond spared Glorfindel
an annoyed glance before turning back to the snowflakes. "I have been somewhat
distracted as of late."

"Distracted, is it?"

"Yes. Distracted. With
the fire and the horses and completing communications with Thranduil. Those
things have taken a great deal of my attention, there's hardly been a moment
for me to concentrate on what the clouds and the snow are doing."

"I see," came the reply.
Setting his goblet upon the balcony railing, Glorfindel put out an arm to
catch snowflakes upon his wrist and watch them melt. "Amazing, isn't it, how
frosted ice will reveal that no two of these are alike? What a marvelous world
we live in, when the Iluvatar has created each of us -- even Lords of Imladris
and Princes of Mirkwood -- as unique as snowflakes."

Grey eyes narrowed, and
Elrond rounded on his friend. "I have no patience tonight for riddles. What
exactly are you trying to say to me?"

"Nothing," the Elf-lord
said mildly, "except that your quest to catch the fair snowflake following
you about lately seems to have proven fruitless."

"Legolas is hardly a delicate
snowflake. And he does not wish to be found."

"Again? Elusive soul,
isn't he? And why might he prefer the snow and wind to your company tonight?
I thought you were coming to quite enjoy each other's company."

"Our last private conversation
was a bit unpleasant."

"Unpleasant?" Glorfindel
prodded. Snowflakes peppered his hair now, were doing the same to Elrond's.
"That's an interesting word to choose. It's not because Assassin tipped him
on the ground today is it?"

"No, nothing so petty
as that." Frowning, Elrond watched a flake land in his wine where it floated
for a moment before vanishing.

"Then what manner of conversation
could send him off into the shadows? Legolas does not strike me as the sort
to flounce off, offended over trifles as would Arwen, so there must be more
to tell, yes?"

"He wishes to journey
into Dol Guldur, while I wish him to remain safe here," Elrond explained.
"We had a clash of wills before meeting you to work with Assassin."

"There is some distance
between those two courses of action," Glorfindel agreed. "How was this clash
of wills resolved?"

"I demonstrated to Legolas
that while I had the power to keep him safe at home in Imladris, I would send
him to the Dark Lord's stronghold as he wished, with the caveat that he be
accompanied by yourself, Mithrandir and my sons. Legolas is to teach you exactly
how he sneaks in and out of that place, and you will take this task from this
point onward. I will not risk my elf by letting him go another time."

"Your elf is he now?"
Glorfindel nodded sagely. "Risking me seems a reasonable enough compromise.
I do thank you for including me in this exciting little journey. When were
you going to share this news with me?"

Grasping the railing so
hard that the whites of his knuckles showed, Elrond glanced across at Glorfindel.
Uncertain whether sincerity or sarcasm ruled his friend's last remark, Elrond
decided that he didn't care either way and returned to scowling at the night.
"I would think it a reasonable compromise, but Legolas appears to think otherwise.
I set certain conditions upon his going, and now he's behaving like a youngling
defying his father, every inch the nasty little prince we'd dreaded receiving
originally, locked in the sulks and avoiding me. This is our first clash of
wills, I think."

Glorfindel leaned back
against the railing and grinned. "Yes, but who's winning?"

Straightening, Elrond
snapped, "Legolas will yield to me as did Assassin, or he will suffer the
consequences. Better that he find out this now, rather than after we bond."

"The consequences?" Glorfindel
pounced upon the word, clearly intrigued. "So there are to be consequences
now?"

"He is, after all, very
young," said Elrond, ignoring his companion. "Not immature precisely, but
very young."

"What consequences did
you threaten, Elrond?"

"Hmm? What?"

"You said that your beautiful
elf will yield to you or suffer the consequences. What consequences might
those be, other than his depriving you of his company and obviously upsetting
you? And may I remind you that Assassin has yet to yield to you unless by
his own choice?"

"Legolas will yield,"
Elrond insisted. "It is for his protection that I do this."

"I reminded Legolas that
I had only to command it, and he would never set foot outside this house,
much less journey beyond Imladris's borders. What's more, he wouldn't want
to."

"So you threatened to
control him not only physically, but mentally?"

"I didn't threaten, precisely--"

"You just said that you
did."

"A poor choice of words.
I made it clear that should I wish it, I had the power to do so."

"Sounds like a threat
to me." Giving a sigh, Glorfindel stepped closer to Elrond. "Surely you know
that threats won't work on one as spirited and intelligent as your prince
from Mirkwood? Not only that, if Legolas is near enough to hear our words
this night, your continued fierceness will not convince him it's time to come
home." Laying a hand on the Elf-lord's shoulder, Glorfindel urged, "Don't
make this more than it is, Elrond. You're both sulking, that's all."

"*Legolas* is sulking.
I am being perfectly reasonable. And you are melting the snow on my shoulder."

Glorfindel chuckled as
he batted at the snow still clinging to Elrond's robes. "As I am much older
than either of you, I think you are a very young elf as well, my lord, for
you sit sulking in your library rather than hiding out in the storm. That
is the only difference I can between your behavior and Legolas's."

Elrond drew his eyebrows
together over a truly fierce glare. "I am not sulking," he growled.

Glorfindel laughed outright,
which only made the Lord of Imladris glower all the harder. "Whatever happened
between you and Legolas, both of you met me today all mood and crunch. The
grooms were reluctant to come out as much due to your temper as Assassin's."
He shook his head. "The rest of Imladris may be used to your bluster and stormy
moods, but Legolas is not. Everyone else says 'yes-my-lord' and knows to get
out of your way when you're like this, that the mood will pass in its own
time with no one the worse for it. It's not that we agree with you, Elrond,
we relocate so as not to become targets. That is precisely what Legolas has
done, though I don't think he understands that you aren't a serious menace.
Can't say that I blame him for staying away, actually. There's no reasoning
with you when you're like this."

Staring stonily at Glorfindel,
Elrond visibly pondered the older elf's words. Shoulders sagging in the next
moment, his gaze grew worried. "As ever, you speak the truth. My mood softened
immediately after I left you and Assassin, but an afternoon of not finding
Legolas has brought back my...crunchiness, I think you would call it."

Looking down at the snow
accumulating on the balcony at his feet, he scuffed at the icy matter with
his toe. "I would call him back inside if I could and try to explain myself
more clearly, but I have given up trying to locate him."

"If you would just sit
down and thing for a moment, put yourself in his position, you'd know where
to find him," Glorfindel admonished. "He's a wood-elf, remember? But even
if you do locate him, I'd advise against trying to talk to him if you're just
going to threaten him again with imprisonment."

Elrond nodded. "I'm little
better than his father if I do that."

"What?"

"Never mind," Elrond hedged,
not wanting anyone else to know of Thranduil's betrayal. "And so, Glorfindel,
where do you think I would be if I were a wood-elf desiring to evade me on
a stormy winter's night?"

Glorfindel grinned before
heading back inside the library. "Were it me, I'd be looking for the warmest
tree in Imladris tonight."

* * *

The old oak tree was huge,
set against the cliff wall behind the burned-out stable on the furthermost
edge of Imladris. It offered comfort and cradling to the Mirkwood elf hiding
in its heart, surrounded by silence that was marred only by the hissing of
snow falling around them. Both comfort and silence were shattered when Legolas
heard someone coming at him through the surrounding forest, muffled footsteps
squeaking in the new-fallen snow. Sitting up, he peered between snow-laden
branches to see the Lord of Imladris come to stand at the base of the tree
and stare straight up at him.

Legolas's immediate instinct
was to shrink back, but Elrond had already seen him so that cowering back
against the tree was undignified as well as pointless. He expected to be ordered
down immediately, to face another lecture which would no doubt include another
refusal to be allowed to go to Dol Guldur. No doubt he would be hauled back
to Elrond's rooms like a recalcitrant child.

[I can always just leap
over his head and be off again,] Legolas pondered when the Elf-lord did not
speak. [I've greatly displeased him this day and proven just how rebellious
I am, so he's certain to make good his threat and lock me away.]

They remained as they
were for a long moment while snowflakes made Elrond blink more rapidly and
Legolas wished he would just go away.

"May I come up?" Elrond
finally asked, so quietly that his words were all but lost to the night.

[No,] was Legolas's immediate,
silent response. [But it's his tree, he can climb it if he wishes.] Unable
to frame the response manners dictated, Legolas settled for nodding and pushed
back from the edge. Climbing a bit higher, he perched on a sturdy upper branch
which made room for Elrond's larger frame in the heart of the old oak.

[Please don't let him
fall and add to my list of transgressions this day?] he silently asked of
the tree.

To his surprise, the older
elf could climb better than Legolas had thought, though admittedly not as
well as one born to the once-bright Mirkwood forest. The branches may not
have parted as willingly for Elrond as they did for Legolas, but the tree
would cradle and protect him just as it did Legolas.

[He has tended me and
my forebears all of my days,] the tree revealed in images rather than words,
with gratitude and humility vibrating in its leaves. [I welcome the chance
to protect him as he has protected me.]

While Elrond settled only
a few feet away from him, Legolas was startled to realize he had never seen
Elrond out of robes. Tonight, the Elf-lord wore a set of gray leggings, high
black boots and a soft-looking gray overtunic that was molded so tightly against
him it outlined every muscle in the barrel chest and strong-muscled back.
[Did he change clothes just to come look for me? I didn't know he owned such
clothing, let alone made use of it.]

The snow continued to
fall, the night wore on, and for a long time Elrond sat in silence with his
eyes closed and his head propped against the the tree's trunk. When the elf-lord
hadn't found him that day, Legolas had had some small hope of passing a solitary
night, to give his anger time to cool and to thrust aside new feelings of
entrapment here in this realm. That hope was now shattered, and so it was
that Legolas resisted the urge to leap down from the tree in search of another
private sanctuary.

[Wouldn't do any good,]
he reflected, [he'd just track me there as well. There is nothing I can do
in Imladris but submit to Lord Elrond's will, regardless the subject.]

Leaving off worrying his
bottom lip, Legolas tried to school his features into immobility in preparation
for when the Elf-lord finally opened his eyes. [What is he thinking? And why
is he here? I only wish I dared ask aloud.] The snow had stopped falling and
the night was late, shrouded in serenity, when Legolas heard someone speak.
Someone who was not Elrond.

Sitting up, the older
elf locked his gaze into Legolas's and whispered, "I know that voice."

Motioning, Elrond urged
Legolas to slip down beside him, the better to lean over the edge of the trunk
and eavesdrop on the two men who had come to stand at its base.

"I don't like this, Einar,"
growled the first intruder, stamping his feet and slapping his arms against
himself in an effort to get warm. "It's too cold for your sneakin' an' games
tonight."

"Ain't games," said the
second man. "One of us has t'see to the job at hand, and you can't think no
better than a coney."

"Then let's light a fire
while we talk. Leastaways I could be warm while ya insult me."

"You ain't lighting no
more fires, Jacoby," the other man growled, sucking on his pipe. "You made
a proper mess of the last one, near burnt up the whole place and every horse
with it."

"I only--"

"You only near ruint everything.
Near burnt me up too, ya half-wit. An' then that elf damn near run over me
trying to get in there. You were supposed to create a diversion so I could
steal a yearling filly, remember? The whole place wasn't s'posed to go up,
you idiot."

"How was I to know it
would spread so fast?" Jacoby growled. "You got a better plan, let's hear
it. We can't stay here all winter. We've already overstayed our welcome, some
of those Elves are starting to look at me funny."

"So whadda you want to
do? We're runnin' out of time and I don't wanna get caught."

"Next time it snows, we
let out the mares--"

"ALL of 'em?"

"Yeah, all of 'em. We
drive 'em into the woods, pick one off at our leisure, and climb out of here
while they're off lookin' for all the others. They'll never miss just the
one, and if they do they'll think she's lost."

"We should get a grown
one, not one a' them babies," Jacoby agreed, enthusiasm rising. "An' get a
fat one that's already carryin' another one. And one we could ride home, aye?"

"Aye, let's. But only
one, mind? We'll have to trade off ridin' back."

Legolas dared to turn
his head and meet Elrond's gaze, his own eyes filled with horror at the sickening
knowledge just gained.

"All of our friends, lost
to greed," Elrond murmured beside him, so quietly no mortal could have hoped
to hear a word.

"Where did these men come
from?" Legolas whispered.

"My sons found them lost
and freezing in the outer woods not three months ago. They were brought in
kindness to Imladris and made welcome among us as they healed." The Elf-lord's
words were quiet, but when he set his hand upon the younger elf's shoulder,
Legolas could feel Elrond vibrating with rage. "Would that we were armed and
could deal with this ourselves, this night."

Reaching for the sheath
at his shoulders, Legolas withdrew one of his long-knives and set it in Elrond's
hand. "I have another and a dagger as well if you wish use both knives."

"One is fine for my purposes."

"I'll take Einer, the
one with the pipe," Legolas suggested, half-rising to leap from the tree.

"Agreed." The smile Elrond
flashed was grim and cold. Rising up, he dropped silently to the ground on
the far side of the tree from the men. He pivoted left as Legolas landed quietly
beside him, long-knife in hand as he moved stealthily to the right.

Attacking in tandem, the
two Elves finished the fight before it had time to begin. The pipe fell to
the forest floor and went out after Legolas shoved his knife at Einer's back,
targeting a kidney. Long fingers wrapped around the man's throat.

Long white fingers tightened
around the grizzled man's throat as Einer wheezed and gulped under the restraint.
He did not, however, struggle. Looking across, Legolas saw that Elrond stood
with one arm wrapped around Jacoby's torso, with a long knife set against
the man's throat.

"Walk," the Elf-lord growled,
shoving Jacoby forward and jarring him into the blade so that a thin red line
of blood appeared just below his jaw.

"Where?" the man sniveled.

"To the stables."

The journey took thrice
as long as it should have, with the two shivering men stumbling on their way,
passively trying to interfere with their captivity. In the end, Legolas was
forced to draw blood at Einer's back; a superficial wound, it nonetheless
dampened the man's jerkin and made him shiver, though whether from chill or
fear was debatable. At last, they entered the deserted stable where Elrond
lined them up against Assassin's stall wall and told them not to move as the
horse stallion came out of the shadows to inspect them.

The two cringed away from
the stallion, but it took only one snap of mighty teeth to persuade them that
standing still was the best option available. While Assassin watched, swords
and daggers were collected and thrown into a heap, and Legolas tied their
hands.

The horses, Legolas learned,
were for himself and Elrond only. They chose carefully reliable geldings that
he knew had escaped the fire, two who were battle-ready and well-able to run
down two mortal men if they should try to escape. Elrond did not offer to
bind the men's wounds before vaulting onto his mount's back and taking the
rope Legolas offered.

Teeth chattering out of
fear, the men stumbled behind Elrond's mount as the Elf-lord headed out over
the mostly empty fields, across the river and up the slippery slope leading
out of the sheltered valley of Imladris. Riding in silence at the rear, Legolas
guarded against any attempts to escape.

The men were whimpering
and stumbling, already cold past their endurance as they reached the top of
the cliffs. Legolas watched their fate unfold over the next hour, after Elrond
had gained Imladris's borders only to travel another twisting couple of leagues.

"A little further," ordered
Elrond.

Finally calling a halt
to the excruciating march, Elrond turned his mount to confront the two men.
While Legolas knew where they were, he suspected that the men were lost once
again.

"Take off your cloaks,"
the Elf-lord ordered mildly. Legolas slipped down from his horse, the better
to guard.

"You can't just leave
us out here!" Einer protested as Legolas set about making the fire and took
Jacoby's cloak from his cold, reluctant grasp.

"Leave you as you left
my horses to burn?" Elrond asked. "On the contrary, I can and I will. A choice
is set before you: you may huddle at your small fire until morning and some
warmth returns to our world, and hope that the smoke does not attract hungry
orcs to find you in the night. Or you can walk in the cold woods and try to
scout a path that will lead you into some Ranger's camp or to a road traveled
by men who will take pity on you and return you to your own world."

"I am actually being quite
restrained, as my first desire was to avenge the cruel and painful deaths
of my gentle horses by merely cutting your throats," Elrond growled over them.
"Elves, however, are above such random barbaric acts as men favor, and so
I will give you a chance to survive. You'll admit it's a better chance than
you gave my horses when you consigned them terror, flame and--"

Elrond broke off abruptly,
his broad hand clenched on the long-knife as he fought to suppress his anger
to more manageable levels. Sensing his fury and agitation, the gelding danced
beneath him.

"I have returned you to
where you were found by my sons," Elrond continued finally, in a soft voice
that held no gentleness and no compassion. "I leave you in the same condition
as when you were last here. As I recall, you had no provisions, no cloaks,
only the clothing you stood in."

The Elf lord's gaze raked
over them once more, then he sighed. "I will let you keep the boots, as yours
were ruined by the time you arrived in Imladris. All in all, I think it is
a far better fate than the one you visited upon my friends, isn't it?"

Poking at the sullen,
smoky fire he'd started, Legolas knew that the boots had been made for feet
that did not mind the cold.

Elrond continued mildly.
"Live or die, I care not. If you live, I would advise you to never set foot
inside Imladris again unless you wish for death. Perhaps you will stumble
upon a way out of here. Perhaps, between the two of you, you possess the skills
to survive the cold. Perhaps you will indeed freeze to death or be eaten before
morning. But you are getting a better chance at survival than the one left
to my horses."

Abandoning the rope as
he abandoned the men, Elrond turned his horse. "Come, Lasgalen."

Vaulting onto his horse,
Legolas ignored the pleas for clemency that faded as they rode away. Legolas
didn't bother looking back. The two rode in silence until, well on their way
back to Imladris, Legolas glanced over to see that Elrond was trembling with
fury.

In his mind, Legolas recalled
Mithrandir's words of only a few weeks before: 'Elrond will not send you to
anything so simple as a dungeon if you make him miserable. There are no dungeons
in Imladris...You would not escape him so easily, nor would your torment be
as brief as six weeks. He would...make you more miserable than you could ever
imagine being.'

[This is what he was talking
about,] Legolas realized. [This is what the Lord of Imladris is like when
his wrath is roused. I don't think he's yet been angry with me, for I have
never hurt him or those he loves. Elbereth willing, I never will. My request
to visit Dol Guldur did not command his wrath, it elicited another reaction
from him. But what reaction? Possessiveness, perhaps?]

Riding behind Elrond as
they descended back into Imladris, Legolas continued thinking. [I don't understand
this, ] he finally concluded with some exasperation. [I do know that he should
not be left alone this night. The flames are before my eyes and the screams
of his horses still ring in my ears; I know he hears them as well.]

They returned the horses
to the stable, where a silent, drawn Elrond helped Legolas settle them for
what remained of the night and gave a slight bow when he returned the younger
elf's long-knife to him. Legolas then followed Elrond across the field and
into the main house, up the stairs and into his private rooms.

Not seeming to notice
his companion, Elrond went lean a hand against the fireplace and stare dolefully
into its flames. Retreating to the shadows of the otherwise darkened room,
Legolas considered what might be needed.

"Is there anything I can
do to help, Lord Elrond?"

Elrond shook his head.
"There is nothing for this pain, Legolas. You cannot bring back my friends
who were lost... and for what? Because two greedy men coveted a Perendhil
yearling or mare to strengthen whatever pitiful herd they possessed?"

Bowing his head, Elrond
rubbed at his eyes. "They had but to ask, and Elven generosity would have
given them both. They would have been taught how to train the yearling, how
to make a lifelong companion of the mare so that she carried them willingly
as protected their mates and children to the end of her days. Her get would
have taken care of them as well, unto the tenth generation. But they did not
ask and so because of their clumsy greed our friends are gone. Gone to flame
and sword and pain and terror--"

Elrond's voice choked
off. He fell back into his chair before the fire, his gaze once again focused
on the flames - tamed brothers of those who had roared, destroyed and devoured
so much that night.

Coming cautiously forward,
Legolas sank down to sit beside the Elrond's chair, reached out to lay a hand
against the Elf-lord's face and sweep away his tears with the back of warming
fingers.

"So much pain," Elrond
whispered, staring down at Legolas. "So much loss. And now, I fear that I
will lose you as well."

"I fear losing you to
the wraiths and the darkness that is Dol Guldur. It fills me with horror to
think of you trapped in the fear and darkness of that place. And yet, I must
let you go."

Long fingers wrapped around
Legolas's wrist and caressed gently where before their touch had threatened
to break bone. Elrond's eyes were black in the firelight, haunted with what
might be.

"I must go," Legolas murmured
quietly. It hurt, having to lay more pain upon Elrond this night, but the
answer was the same as it had been a day earlier, though Legolas realized
he was far less eager now to pursue this fight.

"Yes, you must go," Elrond
agreed, "or others will die. But mine is the gift of foresight. Be it blessing
or curse, I know that something will happen, and I fear that you will not
return to me." Elrond's tears had stopped, all of his wrath seemed to have
melted away to leave only an obvious, aching sorrow.

Stroking a hand down the
raven-black hair, Legolas momentarily considered matters, then cocked his
head and dared to ask, "Was it fear that drove you yesterday then, when we
talked of my going to Dol Guldur?"

"Yes." Barely a whisper,
with dark eyes pleading for understanding. "I do not wish to cage you, Legolas.
I would only keep you safe, yet I cannot. You will not let me."

"I will be safe," Legolas
assured, still stroking down that hair much as he would have stroked a horse's
mane. Elrond had not yet objected to the touch, and he hoped it offered some
comfort. "I promise this."

"You cannot offer such
a promise," Elrond replied, hints of something darker creeping in his voice,
something of sadness and almost resignation. "And I dread what I have seen.
I care about you, Legolas. I would not lose you."

"Mithrandir voiced no
objections to my going. He knows what I am capable of, and I have been inside
the Dark Lord's fortress before."

"Be that as it may, things
happen. There are events we cannot control, and you+ cannot control what transpires
within that dark place." Elrond sighed sadly and turned to look down upon
the slender elf beside him. "Truly, tonight I feel very little is actually
within my control. I would not have you go, but you must go and so I will
let you go. But nothing will induce me to be at ease with your going."

Taking a deep, shuddering
breath, Elrond reached out to caress one long, golden braid and ran it between
his fingers. "With you, I send my sons who possess other parts of my heart.
I send also the wise wizard Mithrandir and Glorfindel whose powers are not
inconsequential. These will protect and watch over you, regardless you think
you do not need such protection."

Legolas pressed his cheek
against the Elf-lord's hand and leaned in to increase the caress as might
a cat. "I would not have you risk so much. I would not have any of them injured
or lost because of my efforts."

"Then best you take care
to come back to me safely," Elrond said gruffly. Legolas could hear the affection
behind the gruffness now and did not pull away. "If you return, they will
be safe as well. And they will bring you back safely to me as well."

"If it will bring you
ease, then I will welcome their protection. And yours."

"I hope so, my prince."

Warm fingers opened to
release the braid only to caress beneath Legolas's ear. He shivered, enjoying
the touch and surprised even as he drew comfort from the simple intimacy.
Closing his eyes, he leaned against Elrond and enjoyed the small touches --
touches Legolas was certain offered their own reassurance to the Elf-lord
simply because they were allowed. Meeting Elrond's gaze once more, Legolas
nodded as the final pieces of the clicked into place in his own mind.

"I think that I finally
understand you," he offered hesitantly.

"And what is it that you
understand?"

"Rather than caging me
as you seemed to threaten yesterday, you will ignore your wishes and your
fears and set me free to do what must be done."

"Yes," Elrond whispered.
"I have lost too many that I love, Legolas. Elbereth grant that you are not
the next one lost to me, that you return safe home to me."

"I will." Nodding, Legolas
shifted around so that he could stare into the fire and lean against Elrond's
thigh. Long fingers sifted again and again through his hair.

When Legolas did not object
or move away, Elrond dared to unfasten the braids at the sides and the leather
thong at the back so that the hair flowed freely through his fingers like
rivers of light. Almost shyly, Legolas wound his arms around Elrond's calf.
Laying his cheek against the strong thigh, he allowed the contact and the
caresses and basked in the warmth of the fire and Elrond's protectiveness.

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

"It will be an early spring,"
Elrond observed, pacing beside Mithrandir in the garden behind the main house
and gazing over the fields to see his beloved animals grazing in peace. "The
horses are already shedding out their winter coats."

"How wonderful that your
elven vision can see that at this distance." The wizard puffed contentedly
on his pipe. "How wonderful as well that Legolas has not made himself scarce
since your sons and I returned from Lothlorien, and I've actually been able
to see him. Where is he now, out practicing with Elrohir?"

"I believe he is within
my library, reading. And I must caution you to remember to call him Lasgalen."

"Lasgalen it shall be."
Grey eyes narrowed up at the Elf-lord. "So you've not yet told your people
who he really is?"

"No."

"I thought this little
deception was for the benefit of the horses, who are all very well this day.
Why, therefore, does it continue?"

Elrond considered his
answer for a moment. "He does not feel comfortable with having all of Rivendell
know his identity just yet."

"And he remains indoors
examining musty old tomes rather than running free with your sons?" Mithrandir
chuckled. "It would seem that you have succeeded where Thranduil could not."

"How is that?"

"You're taming him, Elrond.
Making him more like you."

Elrond snorted. "Hardly.
He has become interested in his family history, and I have tamed him not at
all; he goes where he will and does what he wishes."

Mithrandir nodded in apparent
acceptance of the explanation, but the laughter in his eyes gave Elrond the
feeling that he was merely being humored. To himself, Elrond admitted to a
certain bewilderment that Legolas was not out with his sons, or out anywhere
that did not include the Elf-lord. Legolas was indeed inside the library and
reading of his forebears, but that had happened only after the young prince
from Mirkwood had grown bored with feigning interest in the endless parade
of meetings in Elrond's library, another activity that had baffled the Elf-lord.

[I must remain inside
with dusty old elves and dusty old tomes, but Legolas must not.] That the
younger elf did was as much a mystery to Elrond as it was to Mithrandir, though
the wizard seemed more entertained than curious. That was annoying as well.

"Have you noticed?" went
the house gossip, "Lasgalen of Mirkwood scarcely leaves Elrond's side."

For once, the gossip was
right. For two weeks after the capture of the men responsible for the stable
fire and before Mithrandir's return, Elrond and Legolas's days had fallen
into an easy pattern. Rather than returning to his tree against the back cliff
or seeking solitude with the horses, Legolas had made a point of remaining
close to Elrond. Joining Glorfindel and Elrond at breakfast, he also made
an effort to join in their debates - at least over matters involving the horses
- and he remained to listen when discussions had ranged beyond. After breakfast,
when Elrond had assumed Legolas would prefer to accompany Glorfindel to the
stables, the younger elf had stayed with his lord. Yet another mystery.

"Are you sure you would
not rather be with the horses? Or out with my sons and preparing for your
journey to Dol Guldur?" Elrond had asked only that morning as Legolas settled
opposite Elrond's desk with his latest book.

"It will only take a few
moments for us all to gather supplies for the journey, and there will be time
enough on the road to prepare Glorfindel for Dol Guldur." Hesitating, Legolas
added softly, "Our time together grows short, and I would rather spend it
with you."

Shaking himself mentally
from his musings, Elrond laid a hand on Mithrandir's shoulder. "Council begins
soon. We should head inside."

"Will Lasgalen's voice
be heard again today?" Mithrandir asked.

"Only if the prince of
Mirkwood is mentioned. Lasgalen may be quiet by nature, but when he speaks
it is memorable."

"Those musty old advisors
of yours are far too settled in outdated opinions, Elrond. They need a good
shaking up. Lasgalen will do them good."

This time it was Elrond
who smiled. "I doubt any of my advisors would agree with you, but I do. I've
no idea if Leg… if Lasgalen will join us, but I certainly hope he does."

Leading the way to the
library, Elrond crossed the inlaid wood floor and climbed the stairs before
glancing across the library proper. Candles burned in their sconces, illuminating
the gloomy interior, and the Elf-lord's eye was caught by the bright light
of Legolas's golden hair where he sat within, still engrossed in his book.
Giving a slight smile to have located his elf, Elrond settled into his chair
and smoothed his robes.

Istian would and did.
It seemed half an age later when the meeting finally adjoined, long after
certain parts of Elrond's anatomy had grown numb. Rising with a groan, Mithrandir
leaned on his staff and popped his back. Grimacing, he followed Elrond down
the steps and into the library.

"Do my aches deceive me,
or did the particular boredom we just survived last much longer than usual?"

"It did," Elrond agreed.
"Everyone seems to be determined to regain their status as a contributing
member of the council after Lasgalen made them look so foolish not many—"

The elf-lord and wizard
whirled as a book was slammed hard against a wooden table. Leaping to his
feet, Legolas cast a look of disgust at the book he'd just abused and stalked
out of the library.

"And he's away," Mithrandir
muttered, staring at the open archway through which Legolas had disappeared.
"What was he reading?"

Pacing across the floor
to the reading table Legolas had just vacated, Elrond opened the book and
leafed through the first few pages. "It would appear that he was reading an
account of the Battle of Dagorlad. Specifically of Lord Oropher -- Sindarin
Lord of the Silvan elves and sire of Thranduil Orophilion, King of Mirkwood."

Oropher was also the grand-sire
of Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood. Elrond had been present at the
Battle of Dagorlad, which had occurred not all that long before Legolas had
been born.

Gil-Galad and his armies
had prepared and marched forth from Imladris with Elrond at his side. Oropher
and Thranduil had joined the Last Alliance of Elves and Men on the slopes
of Mount Doom, and it was there that Oropher had been slain along with two-thirds
of his army. A bitter Thranduil had survived and returned to Greenwood the
Great to solidify his rule of the woodland kingdom and father two sons--the
youngest of which was even now betrothed to the Lord of Imladris.

"Refresh my memory, Elrond.
Which battle was Dagorlad?"

"The armies of Elves and
Men fought on the wide plain before the Gates of Mordor, and many were lost
in the marshes bordering the battlefield to the west," Elrond relayed. "Sauron
fled back to Barad-dur, and we conducted a bitter siege there of seven years.
The Dark Lord was finally defeated, and so it was that the Second Age ended
shortly before Lasgalen was born." Gently closing the book, Elrond smoothed
the cracked spine with a tenderness usually reserved for living patients.
"He could have been kinder to the book."

"His grand-sire and other
Mirkwood relations fought in that battle, did they not? Came to a brutal end
of their leader's own making. Perhaps Lasgalen has never heard the tale before,"
Mithrandir murmured.

"Thranduil managed to
survive, but Dagorlad devastated him. I doubt it’s a story told often in Mirkwood."

Settling into a nearby
chair, Mithrandir retrieved his unlit pipe. "Given Thranduil's heartbreaks
and ego, he'd hardly find reason to speak of it." Hidden pockets in the rough
robes were patted in search of a small pouch of Shire weed. Without looking
up from his taske of preparing to light the pipe, the wizard added casually,
"You'll be off then to smooth your elfling's ruffling feathers?"

"Lasgalen is hardly an
elfling, nor is he feathered."

"But he is yours." The
wizard's gray eyes twinkled. "First by political machination and now, amazing
as it might appear, by choice it would seem."

Elrond glared at him,
but Mithrandir smiled and waved him off. "Be gone with you, my friend. I'll
still be here when you return and you'll know where to find me, which is more
than Lasgalen is promising given the headstart he has and the many acres in
and out of Imladris."

Elrond gave a half-smile.
"I believe I know where to find him."

* *
*

The Elf-lord found Legolas
where he thought he would: in the same giant old oak they had shared only
a snowy fortnight past. The younger elf had perched on a lower branch this
afternoon; one with much headroom between it and the next one and ideal for
the activity he had chosen, which was to split arrow after arrow into a distant
target.

Approaching softly behind
Legolas, Elrond narrowly missed having his nose scraped by the next arrow
that was ripped out of its quiver, smoothly nocked, and released. It struck
a near tree with a violence that was unnecessary given the slight distance
to the target, but it was still effective: the arrow that had preceded it
shattered with a most satisfying, brittle crunch.

Coming up on Legolas's
bow arm, Elrond made sure he was well away from the pointed end of the next
arrow before leaning against Legolas's perch and watching for a few minutes.

"Do you never miss?" he
finally asked.

Thwang-CRUNCH!

"Not often." The answer
came through gritted teeth. Another arrow sang. Another died.

"That's a fair bit of
work you're destroying. Have you arrows to spare then?"

Legolas spared him an
icy glance before slowly, deliberately drawing another arrow from the dwindling
number left in his quiver. "I've enough. And I can make more."

Daring to stroke a hand
down Legolas's gleaming blonde head - regardless the gesture was totally ignored
- Elrond asked, "Had you not heard of the battle on the slopes of Mount Doom?"

Thwang-CRUNCH! "I'd heard."

Legolas's body vibrated
beneath Elrond's hand. Given the younger's elf's obvious fury, it seemed a
miracle that he was tolerating the Elf-lord's touch at all.

"What I was told during
my schooling," Legolas continued, "is a slightly different version than the
one in your tome. My fath...Mirkwood's king seems to favor his own version
of the truth in more than just his correspondence with you regarding me."

Laying his bow across
his lap, Legolas drew a deep, ragged breath and looked across at Elrond who
stood at a level with his shoulder. "I had heard that many from Mirkwood died
that day. What I did not know until now is how inept a leader my grand-sire
was during battle. It seems to me that Oropher is as much responsible as Sauron
for his own death, not to mention the death of the Elves who trusted him to
lead them into battle."

Anger fairly crackled
from the lithe form. Leaping down from the branch, Legolas slung his bow across
his shoulder and stalked into the surrounding forest. The snow crunched beneath
his feet.

[So much for the silent
passing of Elves,] Elrond pondered. Falling into step beside the younger elf,
he follwed where Legolas willed. A few minutes later, it became obvious that
movement rather than destination was what Legolas had in mind as they crossed
and recrossed their path in the snow.

"Many lives were lost
that day," Elrond began quietly when Legolas's stride showed some small chance
of slowing. "Men as as well as elves from all the realms."

"You lost more because
of my grand-sire!" Legolas snarled, sparing a hard glower at the tall Elf-lord
pacing so calmly beside him. "You were there, as was Thranduil. I know now
how easily the King of Mirkwood twists facts and betrays his people to suit
his purposes. And so it is that I trust your memory much more than I trust
his tales. I need to hear the truth, Elrond, which is apparently seldom found
in Mirkwood. I need to know what the rest of Middle-earth knows, not just
Thranduil's pretty fables."

"Just this morning, you
read multiple accounts from Elves who were there."

"I want you to
tell me," Legolas snarled. "I want to know what you saw and what you remember.
Through your words, I want to see and feel what happened." Stopping on the
path, Legolas drew a deep breath before looking up and meeting Elrond's eyes.
"Will you please tell me, my lord, with honesty and candor, what actually
happened at Dagorlad?"

Startled at Legolas's
insistence, Elrond nodded in agreement and took a moment to gather his thoughts.
"It is a long and sorrowful tale, Legolas. Are you sure you wish to start
this now?"

"We do not leave for Dol
Goldur until tomorrow. I believe I have time to hear your words."

"As you wish, my prince."
Leaning against a tree, Elrond cast his mind back a thousand years. "Your
grand-sire claimed Greenwood the Great in the name of your father before the
building of Barad-Dur and Sauron's rise at Dol Guldur. Greenwood's realm extended
into the woods surrounding the Lonely Mountain then, and its people were kin
and neighbors to those dwelling in Lothlorien."

"What of you here in Imladris?"
Legolas asked, standing before Elrond and holding his gaze.

"Imladris did not yet
exist; I served Gil-Galad in Lindon then. When Galadriel and Celeborn settled
in Lothlorian, Oropher and your father resented their 'intrusion' and broke
off connections. Still, Greenwood's people traveled and traded with those
in Lorian. Imladris was founded after the fall of Eregion; your people visited
here as well and were made welcome."

Pushing away from the
tree, Elrond wandered through the forest with Legolas falling into step beside
him. "Oropher knew that peace in Middle-earth was impossible unless Sauron
was destroyed," the Elf-lord continued. "No race could do this alone, and
so when Gil-Galad and Elendil called the Last Alliance, your sires assembled
a great army in Greenwood and Oropher led them to battle."

Elrond's voice softened
as he continued the tale. "Though courageous and strong, Greenwood's Silvan
host was ill-equipped compared to others among us. We could have compensated
for this, but Oropher was obstinate and unwilling to place himself under Gil-galad's
sovereign command. So it was that he did not wait for Gil-galad to signal
the advance at Dagorlad. Your grand-sire rushed forward and was cut off from
the main host. Driven into the Dead Marshes to the west of the battle-field,
he, your older brother, and most of Greenwood's army was slain by Sauron's
men."

Legolas stared up at Elrond
and nodded understanding. Snowflakes began to fall, peppering his hair only
to melt and stain his leather tunic. "I am sure that no other outcome was
possible that day. Unlike my sire, I see where lies the true responsibility
for the slaughter of the Greenwood elves."

"There would have been
heavy losses regardless who led the armies," Elrond cautioned. "The slaughter
was terrible, and I cannot assure you that the numbers would have been far
different had Orophir completely handed his command over to me."

"Perhaps not, but I more
fully understand the reasons for the animosity between our houses. Oropher's
arrogance and impatience lives on in Thranduil. Now I see how willing Mirkwood's
king is to deny truth in deference to his ego."

"In deference to his anguish
as well, no doubt."

"No matter the motivation,
you must agree that lying is wrong." Blue eyes lifted from the trampled snow
beneath their feet to meet Elrond's. "I offer apology and sympathy to you
in Thranduil's place."

"Senseless death angers
me," said Legolas. "Untruths anger me, and there has been much of both in
this tale." Scuffing his foot in the snow, the elf added, "I must also admit
to a certain amount of fear."

"Fear?" Elrond arched
an eyebrow. "What is it you fear?"

"That our going to Dol
Guldur will be for naught. That my father will reject your counsel as Oropher
once rejected Gil-galad's. That another Alliance will need to be forged in
some not-too-distant day, and my father will not admit it until it is too
late for everyone in Mirkwood and all races in Middle-earth. Given what I
have learned of the Dark Lord's stronghold and of my father in recent weeks,
I'm certain this must come to pass. I fear that the new battles will fall
to you and Lord Celeborn, without Mirkwood's deficient assistance this time."

"You believe Sauron is
not defeated?" Elrond asked softly.

"I know that he
is not, for I have been inside Dol Guldur and have seen what evil stirs. Sauron
watches and waits like a fat black spider until the time ripens for his return.
I fear Sauron, yes. But I also fear that for all of Thranduil's pretty words
on parchment and his giving me to you, he will never share your dream of a
united Eldar, much less another alliance with Men. He is too selfish, too
prideful to admit that we are all of us connected and must unite if our world
is to be made safe."

"It has ever been thus,
Legolas," Elrond said mildly, caressing Legolas's shoulder with his thumb
in hope of soothing him somewhat. "All we can do is continue our efforts and
offer your father the best alliance we can. He may yet be convinced to set
aside his prejudices against Galadriel and me for the good of all."

Tightening his jaw, Legolas
offered a sceptical shrug and looked away to stare into the swirl of snowflakes.
"He will do so only if the good of Thranduil comes first. Or perhaps that
of his his people. I dare hope it is so."

"Tell me how is it that
you do not share his prejudices?"

"I was left to grow up
beyond our fortress walls," said Legolas, "with minders who did not object
to my running with any warrior as long as he was capable and not likely to
leave me to the spiders. Mirkwood also welcomed the Rangers and I have run
with them as well – not that my minders or I have ever told my father that,"
he added with a hint of a smile. "My Mirkwood teachers caught and taught me
as they could. A few of our archers and strongest warriors also ran with us
when I was younger. All taught me diligently. I thought it proved their dedication
to my education, but I wonder now if it wasn't eagerness to get out of Thranduil's
court."

"So you avoided court?"
Elrond ventured.

"As much as possible.
Thranduil focused his attention upon my elder brother - the heir to Mirkwood
- while I was the spare and blissfully ignored for the most part." Legolas
smiled at the thought, offering Elrond a glimpse of a dimple.

"Glorfindel and I have
both wondered how it is that you grew to be so unlike Thranduil."

Legolas's smile was grim.
"I am told that I have much in common with my mother. It is said that she
could not long bear to stay with Thranduil after her first son died at Mount
Doom. My father's grief made him a bit difficult at times, and with her own
grief so great she had not the strength cope with it. Thranduil gave her a
third child - me - hoping to distract and help heal her, but she faded only
a few months after my birth."

"How did Thranduil fare
then, looking on you?" Elrond asked.

"She was dying before
I was even conceived, and so the blame was never mine to bear. But Thranduil
feels that I failed in that first task set for me, as my mother could not
love me enough to stay. It was her whom he wished alive and not me, so that
after her death he had no need for me nor desire to have me underfoot. I was
much ignored and left alone to make up my own mind about things, so long as
I didn't cause any great disturbances."

"As your brother was not,"
Elrond concluded.

"My brother has always
been kept close to Thranduil's side and carefully schooled in his ways. He
is to be the next ruler of Mirkwood should something befall Thranduil, and
I have no doubt that he will carry on in the standards of both Thranduil and
Orophir. Though he is not as strong, I think," Legolas added after a moment's
thought.

"And so," Elrond concluded,
"the past is done, and none of us can undo it. All of us, even your father,
gather the broken threads of life and weave them into whatever future we can."

Pushing away from the
tree, Elrond slid a companionable arm across Legolas's shoulders, which seemed
somewhat less tense. "I believe the twins should have returned from their
patrols by now. Would you care to join them and Mithrandir at mid-day meal?"

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

Legolas knew that in life
the solution to one problem was inevitably followed by the presntation of
yet another problem. So it was no great surprise for him to find that as he
and Elrond seemed to achieve a new level of affection and understanding in
their relationship, Legolas began having problems in his relationships with
a few other Elves dwelling in Imladris.

Not with relationships
precisely, Legolas reflected, but more of a problem with certain members of
Elrond's court who were always bored and ever watchful of any new mischief
they might begin. Unfortunately, their attention had currently focused on
becoming more friendly with Lasgalen, the mysterious scout from Mirkwood,
who had not only saved the lord's horses but dared argue openly with Elrond
before all the host of the stable.

Not only had this strange
elf challenged the Lord of Rivendell, he had survived for them to tell the
tale, and Lord Elrond actually seemed to favor him afterwards. It was all
quite the mystery and delightfully intriguing. And so it was that every move
made by the strange Mirkwood elf was observed, cataloged, and discussed with
great enjoyment by many in Rivendell.

Legolas had never been
comfortable at court - any court - which was why he'd frequented Mirkwood's
own but a handful of times in his entire life. While he might have enjoyed
dancing with the right partner - had he ever been allowed the freedom to find
the right partner - he would never be comfortable with what others saw as
playful banter or casual flirting. It was a strange game with rules he did
not understand and meanings difficult for him to decipher, and he viewed it
all with grave suspicion as to motives of those involved.

[I have better things
to do,] he also thought of that past-time, knowing that to have voiced the
thought aloud would have sounded more than a little arrogant. It also would
have startled and hurt those he worked so hard to protect in Mirkwood. And
so he did his best to leave them to their games and find matters to occupy
him elsewhere. In Mirkwood, that was not difficult, but Rivendell was proving
to be another matter altogether.

Legolas was no longer
allowed to protect anyone in Mirkwood, and while Elrond would not have objected
to Legolas protecting the citizens of Imladris, the younger elf did not think
it a good time to run the wilds of his new home. Instinct told him to stay
close to the Elven lord instead.

"Elrond fears losing me
to the darkness within Dol Guldur," Legolas acknowledged privately to Glorfindel
after the older Elf had inquired as to why Legolas was spending so much time
within the sanctuary of Elrond's library when there were the twins to trounce.
"Even if I believe my lord's fears unfounded, I must still respect them. I
cannot forego this journey, and therefore I cause him distress. But I can
try to ease what little I might, and so I would not leave his side until I
must."

Unfortunately, staying
close to Elrond meant accompanying him to dinner in the Great Hall each evening
and remaining after the meal to witness courtly activities like dancing and
singing. It also meant enduring and trying to subtly discourage special attention
from certain female elves who weren't hindered by Elrond's gentle attachment
to him.

"And why should they be?"
Glorfindel had laughed when an agitated and irritable Legolas sought him out
for counsel after no less than five elven maidens - FIVE! – had made it clear
that they expected Legolas to pay court in the form of dancing with them that
evening.

"Elrond is betrothed to
Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood," Glorfindel had pointed out with an annoyingly
cheerful grin. "No formal claim has been staked upon Lasgalen, scout from
that woodland realm. You are therefore free for all of the residents of Imladris
to try to win your favors."

Grinning, Glorfindel had
mockingly wound a long strand of Legolas's hair about his finger. "All they
want is a dance, Lasgalen. I hardly think your virginity or theirs is in jeopardy."

"So what are you telling
me to do?" Legolas had growled, slapping at the intruding hand and pulling
away to scratch his scalp.

"Relax and enjoy the attention."
The Elf-lord winked before walking away. "I would."

Unable to resist the temptation,
Legolas mimed firing an arrow into Glorfindel's insufferably confident, retreating
back. Satisfying though the gesture might have been, it didn't help the situation
at all. Minutes later, on the way back to the table he was sharing with Elrond
and Glorfindel, Legolas was cornered by one of Arwen's friends. Giggling,
she grabbed the reluctant elf's hand and hauled him into the ongoing ringdance.
Short of using his archer's strength to wrench free of her suprisingly strong
yet dainty fingers, there was nothing to be done but submit.

A bemused Elrond watched
from the head table, chin in hand as a very stiff Legolas grudgingly fell
into step. "He seems strangely reluctant to participate in the festivities."

"Indeed," Glorfindel said
somberly, sinking down into his own chair with a new pitcher of wine and deciding
not to confide Legolas's frantic conversation with him only minutes before.
"More wine?"

"Thank you, no." Elrond
waved away the offer without taking his eyes off of the bright elf who was
winding his sour way across the floor.

Glorfindel laughed and
shook his head. "Not Lasgalen, Elrond. Her. I said her."

Elrond favored him with
a scowl. "Who?"

"Legolas's partner."

"Oh. Her. I hadn't noticed."

[Was that a growl?] Glorfindel
waited another few minutes before intruding again. "He intrigues you then?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he has shattered
every expectation I had of Thranduil's son." Elrond slouched down into his
chair, still without taking his eyes from the gracefully resistant Legolas.
"He doesn't act like a prince, and he requires no special treatment except
to be treated fairly. In fact, he will go out of his way to evade any special
recognition. He is quiet, undemanding, and watches everything around him.
He tries to understand everything as well, including me, and I think you'll
admit that's no small task?"

"Definitely not something
to be undertaken lightly," said Glorfindel. "Perhaps Lasgalen simply didn't
understand the magnitude of the tast when he started it."

Elrond spared him a glare,
then returned to ticking off elements that he'd discovered about his new companion.
"Regardless his youth, Lasgalen is a fighter to equal my sons, and he hates
participating here." Elrond's wave encompassed the Great Hall. "He's also
very much a loner and seems much older than his few years, something that
I find disturbing and almost sad in a way, as though his very youth has somehow
been stolen away. I've never met anyone like him and so yes, he intrigues
me. Do you see something wrong with that?"

"No, nothing. I think
it's lovely." Glorfindel hid a smirk behind his goblet of wine, which he then
raised to salute the couple whirling past. "His new friend thinks he's lovely
as well, and seems to be trying to make that clear. Just look where she's
maneuvered his hands."

Elrond narrowed his eyes
at the dance floor where Legolas was all but carrying his dance partner, so
closely was she wrapped against his chest. Legolas cast a particularly uncomfortable,
desperate glance his way as they whirled past, and Elrond rose to his feet.
"Excuse me please, Lord Glorfindel."

"LORD Glorfindel? You've
not called me that in an age. What is wrong with you tonight?" He didn't expect
an answer and it was a good thing, for Elrond gave no indication of having
heard him.

Gathering his robes, the
lord of Imladris moved smoothly down the side of the room and up behind the
elven maiden who had now draped herself across Legolas to the point that he
was required to put his hands in questionable places if only to keep her propped
on her feet. By now, any other elf would known her as a willing partner and
whispered an invitation into her delicate ear for her to join him in the gardens.

Legolas was not any other
elf. He not only seemed oblivious to what the next step in this intimate dance
should be, but appeared highly annoyed by his dance partner's efforts. Elrond
was well-pleased with that assessment. He also had the impression that were
he not to interfere and quickly, Legolas's solution to the problem in his
arms would be to let go the she-elf so that she collapsed to the floor in
an undignified heap while the scout from Mirkwood made his escape into the
surrounding dancers and beyond.

[He doesn't play games
well, does he?] Elrond reflected, not at all upset by the realization.

Sliding a hand beneath
Legolas's to cup the she-elf's elbow, Elrond met Legolas's gaze before bodily
lifting his partner away from him. Leaning down, Elrond rumbled into her ear.
"My apologies, lady, but I have a prior claim on this one."

Stiffening, she whirled
to snap at the elf who was spoiling her carefully crafted plans. "And who
are you to lay claim to--oh!

The affronted feminine
presentation dissolved as the elf's eyes widened in surprise. She shrank back,
embarrassed to realize who the intruder was.

"I... I'm so sorry, Lord
Elrond -- Lasgalen," came the stammered apology, along with a very strange
look at both elves. "I had no idea…nobody said anything about…and with the
Prince…and…Oh, excuse me!" she mannaged to stammer, her cheeks growing red.
Gathering her skirts, she offered an abbreviated curtsey before fleeing through
the crowd and not looking back.

The room had stilled during
this brief encounter with the musicians falling silent the dancers stilled.
All too aware of the eyes and ears of the curious surrounding them, Elrond
murmured, "Come, Lasgalen."

Nodding to the silent
musicians to continue, he led the way from the midst of the dancers.

Legolas needed no further
encouragement to follow the elf-lord from the middle of the room and over
to the large stone fireplace which afforded some shadow and privacy. The dance
continued and Legolas stood beside Elrond, relief all too obvious in the blue
eyes glimmering at him in the firelight.

"Thank you," came the
heartfelt words, low and intense.

Elrond offered a crooked
smile. "Don't thank me quite yet, as I undoubtedly phrased things badly and
have given her the wrong idea. Or the right one, depending on your point of
view. Either way, word of my claiming you will spread quickly tonight. I dare
say the gossip will create its own problems, but you won't be troubled again."
He paused, then offered a small smile. "At least not by our ladies. My news
may, however, cheer some of the males."

"I knew of no polite way
to reject her advances," Legolas protested. "She was rather persistent, and
conversing with her was like dancing on raindrops."

"Not a comfortable position
at all to be in. I think you managed quite well, considering how determined
she seems to have been to have you for her own tonight, whether you wished
it or not. That one is quite good at getting what she wants," he added in
confidential tones. Glancing back at the dance floor, the Elf-lord confessed,
"To solidify my claim, we should have danced, but I doubt you're ready for
that."

"I am tonight," Legolas
growled.

"Not for this particular
dance."

"Why not?" he protested.
"I'd rather dance with you than with her or the ones lined up behind her.
That dance was…She wanted me to put my hands…in inappropriate places," he
finished unhappily. "She wanted to touch me as well. How could dancing with
you be worse than that?"

"Because this particular
dance ends in a traditional kiss," said Elrond, "and I don't think you're
quite ready to kiss me in public."

Sudden silence met that
announcement. After a time, Legolas remarked, "I don't think I care much for
this dance."

"I can see where you would
not. It is a dance for lovers and those who wish to be. As we are not part
of either category, it is a dance we had both best sit out. Not to worry,
we'll make certain you are not trapped again. One way or another, I will make
certain you are safe from whatever displeases you here."

Legolas nodded briefly.
"I thank you for both the rescue and your thoughfulness."

Affection and trust reflected
in the blue eyes holding his own – a simple and so important gift that the
Elf-lord stared back.

"I take it my plans meet
with your approval?" Elrond asked.

Legolas's eyes crinkled
at the corners and he laughed softly - a low, almost seductive sound that
had Elrond staring down at him in disbelief as the change in the younger elf
was remarkable. Gone was the solemn, oh-so-serious and formal elf he'd known
until this moment. In his place Elrond glimpsed a complex, occasionally mischievous
creature with much warmth, affection and loyalty, one who might actually be
ready to claim Elrond as a friend.

"You do realize that my
rescue extends only to the ladies of the court?" Elrond cautioned. "You will
now be considered a delightful trophy for any male who might find you attractive."

Legolas gave the matter
a moment's serious consideration, the smile fading from his eyes. Heaving
a sigh, he nodded decisively. "I think I may be ready for you to tell everyone
who I really am. Quickly, I think."

"Before you change your
mind? Lose your nerve?"

Legolas nodded.

Stepping closer to deliberately
invade Legolas's space, Elrond was gratified to see that the younger elf's
only reaction was to drop back his head, the better to look up at Elrond.

"You realize that I must
tell them also we are promised to bond? We needn't do this if you do not wish
it."

"I wish it. This night
and right now, for to continue the charade will only cause further difficulties
for everyone. I will not allow your reputation to suffer because of my fears,
and your announcement will destroy any speculation that the Lord of Rivendell
has suddenly developed a taste for any and all males from Mirkwood."

The blue eyes were steady
as they held his. Elrond could sense no misguided feelings of self-sacrifice;
the elf standing so close before him radiated only a calm confidence and no
little affection. Reaching out, he touched Legolas's hand – the one bearing
Elrond's own seal. When Legolas didn't withdraw, Elrond carefully entwined
their fingers, feeling the archer's callouses slide across his skin. Legolas
remained beside him, watching him expectantly.

"So it will be," Elrond
whispered. "Tonight."

With Legolas's hand in
his, Elrond made his way back to the table where Glorfindel remained slouched
in his chair, watching the room and having missed nothing. He had been joined
by Elrond's sons and Mithrandir as well; the three had come late to the hall
and were only just finishing their supper.

"All is made ready for
our departure tonight," Mithrandir informed Legolas with a gentle smile and
a nod.

"That is well." The elf
moved on with Elrond who set his chair aside, so that he and Legolas might
stand before the crowd.

"I'm not sure who's glowering
the harder," Glorfindel ventured. "Those who want you, or those who want Elrond."

"They are all going to
have to stop glowering and start smiling, even if they must pretend their
happiness for us," Elrond pronounced as his sons exchanged looks of dread
with Mithrandir, who was looking almost as amused as Glorfindel.

"You've behaving as one,
aren't you? The tale will be told to everyone in a few moments." Raising his
voice, Elrond addressed the crowded hall. "Attend me, if you will?"

The music died, the dance
halted. Eager faces turned toward the Lord Rivendell. The twins frowned and
Glorfindel grinned, sensing what was coming. Legolas watched the servant elf
Aniviel – his acquaintance from the bath - finish refilling Elrond's empty
goblet, hurrying to complete her task before her ruler began speaking over
her head.

Remembering her complaints
about having to clean up after the horses, and her having kicked his last
clean clothes into the bath only a few days before, Legolas thought, [Let's
hope she can at least complete the task without pouring out over the table.]

Glancing Legolas's way,
she scowled as if to say, 'No love lost here, either.' Hurrying, she joined
Erestor near the doors.

[I've made my choice,
there's no turning back now,] thought Legolas. His hand was still held tight
in Elrond's own, and Legolas left it there, realizing he was gripping fingers
every bit as hard as was Elrond.

Not for the world would
he have pulled away, for he remembered all too well Mithrandir's warning of
days past: "The mate you are committed to claiming is every bit the proud,
injured warrior you are. While you cannot make him happy any more than he
can make you happy, you would do well not to humiliate him in public or in
private. You would also do well to seek a common ground on which the two of
you may become friends, as lovers seem an impossibility."

"I present to you this
night Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

There was a long moment
of total, stunned silence during which Legolas held his breath. A single voice
whispered in the deep silence of the hall, followed by another. He heard his
name in each whispered comment which was followed by others. They turned into
a steady murmur as the crowd realized that the elf they'd considered one of
lowly rank from Mirkwood, moving freely for days among them and witnessing
their warts and weaknesses, was actually Thranduil's youngest son.

"I've seen the same terrified
look in the eyes of a hare ensnared," Elrond murmured, so quietly that not
even Glorfindel – seated but a few feet away and exhibiting keen interest
- could have heard. Releasing Legolas's fingers, he laid his hand on the younger
elf's shouler. "Be still and trust me a little longer if you can."

Sipping from the goblet,
he offered it next to Legolas, who drank from it as well. Behind him, chairs
scraped back as Glorfindel and Mithrandir rose to their feet. Legolas didn't
need to look to know that the twins were following with more than a little
reluctance.

Mithrandir toasted the
two of them with apparent sincerity. "May your eternity together be filled
with peace, happiness, and much love."

"Our lord is betrothed,"
said Glorfindel, grinning. "Let us celebrate through the night in song, dancing
and many good wishes."

Complete silence met Glorfindel's
urging. Legolas sensed that the elves in the hall were simply too shocked
at their lord's tying himself to Thranduil's shabbiest son to have any reaction
other than disbelief. From somewhere close to the door, a loud feminine voice
rang out to echo through the hall. "THAT's a prince?"

Elrond narrowed his eyes
over Legolas's head and gave what might have been a low growl, but Legolas
himself had no need to turn to ascertain the owner of that voice. Closing
his eyes, he thought, [Aniviel.] No love lost between them indeed, and yet
wasn't her pointed, three-word analysis of Legolas's status all too appropriate?
He didn't behave like a prince, and Elrond was getting a poor mate in exchange
for his alliance with Mirkwood.

The ironic truth was suddenly
too much for Legolas. Life or fate and kings were much stronger than any mere
elf or even the ruler of Imladris. No matter what he or Elrond wanted, others
had maneuvered and manipulated until rather than rail against the Valar or
go insane trying to fight the manipulations, he could only accept and step
blindly into tomorrow.

Looking up at Elrond,
he let himself smile. Laughter - hysterical or not - bubbled up inside of
him until he had to let it out. It rang through the hall, chased Aniviel's
words and Aniviel herself down the hallway with Erestor in hot, embarrassed
pursuit that one of his household should insult their masters so.

Legolas knew that Aniviel
would pay the price for her tactlessness; she would be forever banished to
the kitchens or perhaps to the stables – to become a mere groom, mucking out
stalls until she constantly smelled of horse and callouses formed on her delicate
white hands. Though Legolas himself might ask that her fate be different,
if only to spare the horses her incompetence, Aniviel herself had sealed that
fate.

To Elrond and the listening
crowd, he said, "Given my untidy arrival from Mirkwood and events shared by
all of us in the aftermath, she spoke but the truth. I am not upset, neither
should you be." Still in possession of Elrond's goblet, Legolas raised it.
"I thank you for your welcome, my lord. Your happiness will be mine."

A cheer did go up then,
as dismay was replaced by happiness and the elves of Imladris wished to believe
this betrothal was for the good of all. Legolas thought Elrond's gray eyes
held more than a little relief at his words.

Legolas fit beneath it
as though made to be there, and he jumped only a little – so little that he
thought no one but Elrond might notice. Knowing what was expected of him as
he was now betrothed, Legolas slid his arm around the Elf-lord's waist for
all to see as they walked from the Great Hall. Neither Aniviel or Erestor
were anywhere in sight as they journeyed back to what the household would
now think of as their private chambers.

"For better or worse,
you belong to the Master of Imladris now," Elrond said grimly once the doors
had been closed and privacy had been gained. Shrugging out of his outer robe,
he laid it across the back of a chair and smoothed a hand across it, as if
seeking comfort from the soft cloth. "No one will dare pursue you in any capacity."

"That is well." Legolas
watched Elrond disappear into the bedchamber beyond, no doubt to shed the
other heavy robe he wore, to be more comfortable in the night. "Between the
intense interest of my dance parteners and of Erestor, I was beginning to
feel that peace would never be mine here. I dared not offend, but neither
had I any wish to endure their attentions."

Elrond all but leaped
back into the outer chamber. Naked. "Erestor? You were being approached by
Erestor?"

Legolas smiled mildly
at Elrond's shocked expression. "You were bound to the Prince of Mirkwood,
my lord, not to some lowly scout. What harm could come to Erestor if he dared
approach me?"

"Erestor was interested
in courting you?"

"Erestor has been interested
since I was trapped without clothing in the bath. He evidently liked what
he saw and was merely waiting for you to be distracted once your prince arrived."

Elrond moved closer, obviously
seeking to somehow reassure, to offer comfort in this awkward situation. Legolas
turned away from him, however, his gaze fixed with determination on the winter
scene outside on the balcony rather than on the large, well-built and very
naked Elf-lord at his side. With a sigh, Elrond turned away and left again,
hopefully to cover what was disturbing Legolas.

Music and gentle laughter
wafted up from the Great Hall. Legolas bore no illusions as to what those
below would be talking about, or laughing about for that matter.

[Aniviel is right: I am
no prince, regardless my birth,] he thought, standing at the door overlooking
Elrond's private garden. [It's far too late for me to be anything but what
I am. All that's left is for Elrond and me to bond this night, and for me
to try not to make him too miserable afterward.]

A few seconds later, Elrond
emerged from his bedchamber to begin extinguishing candles until none were
left. Coming to stand beside Legolas, the Elf-lord did not try to touch him
again.

"I thought to leave us
in darkness," Elrond explained, "so that if anyone is watching, our intimacy
will be assumed."

Nodding, Legolas said,
"The snow is falling again, as heavily as it did when Mithrandir and I arrived.
It's so calm, so quiet and peaceful now compared to the chaos of the fire."

"Calm, as your heart is
in chaos this night?"

"I am all right."

"You were not offended
by Aniviel's outburst?"

"Legolas shrugged. "As
I said in the hall, she spoke only the truth."

"I was offended, even
if you were not. You are very much a prince in heart as well as by birth and
heritage."

"She spoke the truth,"
Legolas replied with quiet determination.

"As we should, one to
the other." Reaching out, Elrond ran a hand down the golden mane that was
bleached to white in the snowlight. When Legolas did not move away from his
touch, Elrond continued the caress. "You seem at least at ease with this affection."

"You are touching me as
a friend. Since I arrived, you have taken great care to look after me as a
friend."

"I would like to think
so." Elrond sounded pleased.

"At the very least, I
owe you the same."

"Legolas, you owe me nothing."

"I have never known the
sort of kindness you are offering. How could I not wish to return it?"

Turning with a sigh, Elrond
lowered himself into the nearest chair. "What I offer has never carried a
price, Legolas. If payment is required, then please consider that your saving
my horses and helping me punish those resonsible have indebted me to you."

Legolas made an impatient
gesture. "Our betrothal and impending bond do not involve the horses. Until
tonight, Thranduil's trap has been a quiet, if not private, matter between
us. Now that all of Imladris has been told, the trap has further closed about
us."

"I regret nothing, as
you have made everything happen in the most gentle way possible."

"You should have faith
that it will continue to be so." Elrond slouched in the chair like a great,
insouisant cat.

Giving a low growl, Legolas
began pacing. "Are you attempting to distract me from the point I wish to
make? I am no diplomat, Elrond, my skill with words is little. I beg your
patience this night, to try and make you understand. Surely you will bond
with me tonight, for to do otherwise would humiliate you before all of Imladris."

"Indeed?" The Elf-lord
sounded half-amused.

"I enjoy your company,"
Legolas ploughed on. "Surely that is enough to ensure that the bond between
us is not the unhappy, eternal horror you fear it will be?" Halting before
Elrond, Legolas all but glowered down at him.

***

The Elf-lord waited a
moment, until he was certain Legolas was finished speaking. "Let me make sure
I understand you, my elf. You do not regret that all of Imladris knows we
are betrothed?"

"That is correct."

"And you feel that we
must make love tonight and become bonded, else I will suffer untold humliation?"

"Yes."

Elrond arched an elegant
eyebrow. [Where did he get that impression, I wonder?] "Have you changed your
mind then? Discovered that you want me as a man may want another?"

The elf all but wrinkled
his nose. "Elrond, I…"

"That is as I thought."
Slouching further in the chair, he gave a deep sigh and rested his chin in
his hand. "No, Legolas, I will not take you, this night or any other."

"Then I will have failed
and Thranduil will send for me."

"He shall not have you,"
Elrond said mildly.

"You do not understand
either the king of Mirkwood or me!" Legolas exploded. "To bond with you is
what I came here to do, and I will honor our agreement."

"And just how do you propose
to do that?" Elrond asked mildly. "Tie me down and have your way with me?"

"It is only because of
your patience and tolerance of my immature attitudes that we are not already
bonded," Legolas said, ignoring Elrond's question. "It must be done, and you
do care for me. That is far better than I ever antipated. It is enough."

Elrond stopped slouching
and gained his feet to confront the younger elf nose-to-nose. "It is far from
enough!"

"It must be, for two such
as we are, caught in Thranduil's—"

"I do not consider myself
trapped, nor should you." Elrond loomed over Legolas, crowding him so close
to the table that he shoved against it and set a pile of manuscripts sliding
toward the floor. Sparing them them the briefest of glances, Elrond reached
past Legolas and shoved them back atop themselves. "You are under my protection,
elfling. Whether you or your recalictrant father recognizes that or not, it
is a powerful thing. Let his guards come – they shall not have you. Thranduil
shall not have you."

"It is a pretty picture
you paint, but it cannot be so."

Elrond stepped back a
pace. "You have so little faith in me?"

"It is not faith in you
that I lack." Legolas sounded desperate. "It is knowledge of Thranduil and
his wrath at being thwarted that prevents me from believing what you say.
Mark me, Elrond: if we do not bond, he will reclaim me."

Reaching out, Elrond fingered
the braid at Legolas's temple. "He shall not have you tonight, and neither
will I. You belong to yourself, Legolas. If I am willing to send you into
Dol Guldur and let you fight the wraiths to protect our people, why will you
not fight for yourself?"

"Because the outcome of
the battle is assured." Tears filled the blue eyes glittering at him in the
dark. "Thranduil will win."

Elrond cradled Legolas's
face in his hand, stroked the high cheekbone with his thumb and brushed away
a wayward tear. "He will not win."

Closing his eyes, Legolas
subsided and leaned into Elrond's hand. "Enough, my lord. Let the last night
we spend together before your sons and I depart not be lost to contention.
You will not yield on this matter. Neither will I, so we will leave it for
some little while. I will tell you instead that no one has ever touched me
as you do. I think no one else has ever wanted to."

"I find that hard to believe,
my prince. Perhaps it is simply that no one else has dared discover you enjoy
such touching?"

"Probably." Legolas kept
his eyes closed as Elrond moved onto stroke his hair, down over his shoulder.

"You have learned to enjoy
this particular touch rather than simply endure it, then?"

"Yes."

Elrond stepped closer.
"Then on this our last night, will you lie with me in my bed? To talk and
nothing more?"

Opening his eyes, Legolas
held Elrond's gaze and considered the question for the longest of moments,
until the Elf-lord thought he should withdraw the invitation and offer apology.
And then, much to Elrond's surprise, Legolas slipped past him and the table
piled high with books and scrolls to disappear inside his bedchamber.

Disbelieving, the Elf-lord
followed a few minutes later to find Legolas's tunic folded neatly over the
nearest chair. His boots were tucked next to Elrond's, and the elf himself
was stretched out on his side along the far side of the bed.

Glittering blue eyes held
his in the shadowed light. Elrond noted that Legolas had shed none of his
clothing but the boots and the tunic: newborn trust extended only so far,
after all, which was only to be expected. Smiling to himself at his elf's
modesty, Elrond decided he had decided well not to take Legolas this night,
no matter the eagerness he felt to do just that.

Sliding gingerly into
bed, Elrond settled on his side, face-to-face with his bed-companion. "You
have been spending a great many days close to me. Forgive me for asking, but
do you enjoy that as well?"

"I enjoy your company,"
Legolas acknowledged, seeming relieved at the harmless question. "I enjoy
the talks we have, regardless I am not used to being contained within walls."
There was a long pause, and then he added, "But I do not enjoy listening to
your councellors."

"Nor do I sometimes. You
and I have come a long way from the first night you spent in these chambers.
That night, pulling honest answers from you was like trying to get the twins
to take a bath in their younger days. I felt as though I had caged a wounded
hawk, but now my hawk comes to rest without fear. It is a vast change, though
you still think my walls are cumbersome."

"Not your walls specifically,
Elrond. Any walls."

"Ah. I remember a life
not contained by walls," Elrond said wistfully, as it seemed the night for
confessions. "I too miss it at times."

Legolas's hand was instantly
on his shoulder. "Then come with us to Dol Guldur. I would teach you as I
will teach Glorfindel."

"I cannot. I am needed
here."

"Everyone here is over
five hundred years old except me," Legolas observed. "Surely they can do without
you for a few days."

Covering Legolas's hand
with his own, Elrond felt the long, fine bones of the archer's fingers. "Imladris
cannot do without me, for reasons I cannot explain."

"Imladris cannot do without
its lord?" Legolas sounded incredulous.

"I...help keep this place
safe and must maintain that safety. However strange it sounds, I am this sanctuary's
sole guardian. Without me, it would be lost, and I cannot take the chance
of leaving it unprotected, not even for a single day."

Legolas nodded and fell
into silence for the next few moments. To Elrond, it seemed a sympathetic,
almost companionable silence. Such was new to the Elf-lord, as he was so used
to being utterly alone with his responsibilities.

"My father spoke of a
choice given to you and your children," Legolas finally said, tactfully changing
the subject. "That you may choose once between being Eldar or Mortal. Did
he speak truth?"

Elrond nodded. "My brother
Elros chose a Mortal life."

"What made you choose
as you did?"

"Inside myself, I have
always belonged to the Eldar. When the time came, there was no choice. My
twin felt otherwise."

"Have you ever regretted
that choice?"

"I regret having to watch
my brother age and die. I mourn his absence and will always miss him. But
regret that I am Elven? No. I am who I am and where I belong. The world of
Men never held any attraction for me."

"What then attracts you?"

Almost as if he were unable
to resist, Elrond found himself reaching to touch Legolas's hair once more
where it fanned across his shoulder and flowed onto the bed. "This fascinates
me. This attracts me."

He heard Legolas's swift
intake of breath but did not stop sifting his fingers through the heavy hair.
"I am deeply attracted to you, Legolas, but I suppose you already know that."

"I did not."

"You do now. Such attraction,
I assure you, is something I have never before felt for any male." Elrond
fell silent then, preferring to let the drifting exploration of his fingers
speak for him.

Abandoning the fall of
Legolas's mane when his elf shivered, Elrond moved on to the neat braid at
his temple. Untangling its end, he was encouraged when Legolas did not protest
its unraveling. Lifting his head, the younger elf allowed Elrond to unravel
the other braid before reaching behind and undoing the heavy herringbone center
braid himself.

Gliding a hand once more
over the golden mane, Elrond dared slide his arm about Legolas's shoulder
to gently pull him closer. Murmuring softly, nearly asleep, Legolas allowed
the contact, body to body. Sliding his own arm across Elrond's ribcage, Legolas
nestled beneath the Elf-lord's chin.

[So he welcomes my touch
instinctively as well as when he's awake,] Elrond wondered. [And he will reach
for me in sleep?] Elrond's arms went around his elf in a fierce hug. [Then,
sweet Elbereth, if you return safe home to me from Dol Guldur, then I believe
there's yet hope for you to one day love me as I am coming to love you.]